


The Wrong Words

by Sans_Comics



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Self-Harm, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 14:26:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19889320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sans_Comics/pseuds/Sans_Comics
Summary: In a world where the words your soulmate says when you fall in love with them are written on your arm, Aziraphale is taught to hate his words and his soulmate.





	The Wrong Words

If Aziraphale had to pick one thing he loved about humans, it wouldn’t be their food or books but the way they reacted when they realised they met their soulmate. He didn’t get to see it often since it was so rare for people to find their soulmate. Not only did they have to actually meet them but they had to fall in love and just because you have words on your arm doesn’t mean you’ll meet them. Still, the surprise and absolute joy when they hear their lover say the words was nothing short of beautiful. Some people liked to wait until they said their soulmate’s words since they didn’t want to pressure them but they still gave little clues as to what happened.

Everyone had words on their arm. The words your soulmate said when you fall in love with them or more precisely when you realise you love them. They couldn’t be changed or tattooed over as humans later found out. They couldn’t even be cut off as a certain angel had painfully found out. It just appeared somewhere else, mostly the other arm or over their heart. No one would really want to get rid of them anyway. Who wouldn’t want a soulmate? Simple, Aziraphale.

Now maybe that’s not fair. He did want a soulmate. After all if even angels and demons weren’t excluded from such a beautiful thing as love then it was only fair they met them. Though not a single angel or demon had met their soulmate, but that’s not the point. The point is that Aziraphaledid want a soulmate, but he didn’t want the words on his arm. He hated them for as long as he had them. Well, that’s a lie as well. He’d hated them for as long as other angels had read them. And it was less the words themselves he hated but more the implication and context around them. Did he really have to fall to meet his soulmate? Or did he have to betray heaven or even the Almighty? Either way, he learnt to hate them. The words that is, not heaven or God.

Every other angel seemed to be waiting for him to fall or show a sign that he was betraying them. So he gave them every reason not to suspect him. He followed the rules to the letter and spent all his time on earth. 

He remembered the first time he had truly been terrified he’d fall. When he gave his sword to Adam, he could only pray that he wouldn’t be found out. That certainly didn’t mean Aziraphale regretted it. They needed protection and he would give it to them if no one else would. Then he had to meet a demon. He had a feeling he would one day, but this was a bit too early for the words to come true. Eventually though their conversation was over and Crawly vanished for about a 1000 years.

Aziraphale met the demon many more times throughout history. While at the beginning he was scared the words may slip from his mouth one day, he slowly grew to forget about them when he was around Crowley. The angels still reminded him of his possible future and condemned him for something that hadn’t happened yet but it was easier to forget his fate when he was around the one who may cause it. Maybe it was because they were soulmates. But he couldn’t think like that. It was forbidden for a reason.

Then World War 2 rolled around. The pain and suffering humans caused each other always horrified him but this time it was on a more global scale. The words stopped being a source of joy. He remembered meeting a young child who had been so happy with her words. She proudly showed anyone who gave her the time how thoughtful and loving her soulmate was. “Don’t cry, please. I know you’ll live happily.” No one wanted to break her heart. Explaining the concept of love is difficult to someone at that age let alone the concept of death.

Yet he still saw people meeting their soulmates, maybe it wasn’t as joyous as before but it was still beautiful. And then he joined the British Military Intelligence for a little mission. And then Crowley showed up like he always did to save hm. And then he was standing in the rubble of a church. And then Crowley said the words that Aziraphale had grown to hate but he couldn’t help but love them in that moment.

Crowley had never seen the words so he couldn’t have been playing a foul trick on him. Aziraphale refused to wear short sleeves or anything that showed his arms. Mostly because he remembered walking through heaven in a toga one day and felt as though each angel was staring at his arm, whispering about the angel that was destined to fall. 

He was stuck watching the demon, his soulmate, walk to his car, ready to forget about saving an angel and help him get home. When they arrived at Aziraphale’s bookshop, he had been a bit too quick to dismiss Crowley’s worries and just wanted to spend the night, maybe the week or decade, on his own with a bottle of something to stop his fears.

The fire was lit, giving the only heat and light in the whole place. He sat on a plush couch, nursing a glass of whiskey. His coat was lying over the back of the couch which left only one layer of clothing from his words. Maybe they were Crowley’s now since he had said them. He took a deep, shaky breath and closed his eyes. No, they weren’t the same. There had to be some small difference he wasn’t thinking about. With his eyes still closed, he leaned forward to place the glass down on the coffee table and rolled up his sleeve. He scrunched his eyes closed even more. His hand slowly made its way over the words.

He’d spent years imagining what might happen when he heard those words. He’d imagined a world on fire. His wings the same dark shade as Crowley’s. Maybe there was blood everywhere, on him, the ground, the other demon. Maybe his eyes looked different. Like how Crowley’s were snake eyes. Maybe he was part of some hated creature as well. Maybe he wore all black.

It felt bumpy even though he knew the skin there was completely smooth. There was no indication that he even had the words other than opening his eyes and looking at them. He kept going over them until he started to scratch at them. It was a tingle at first until it became more desperate as he scratched at the words that marked him. It didn’t hurt physically, not even when he felt small droplets on his skin. He was an angel so of course it didn’t hurt, it couldn’t.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and stopped scratching. His breathing was uneven and shaky as he tried to calm himself down. He stared down at his abused arm. Somehow the words were more obvious on the deep red than they were on the usual milky white skin. Aziraphale’s sight became blurry the longer he stared at them. He lifted his other hand up and touched his stained fingertips to his cheek. They were warm and a little wet. 

He pulled his hand away and covered the words with his sleeve before grabbing his glass again and looking at the fire. It was like nothing happened. Except the bloodshot eyes and red shiny cheeks.

It wasn’t the first or last time he had openly hated his words. Though maybe openly wasn’t quite the right word. There were days he talked about not liking his words, though it was a touchy subject so neither Crowley or Aziraphale brought it up often. There was one time he had been rather obvious about his hatred for the words.

It was long before World War 2, sometime in the 1600s during another meet up at the globe theatre. After Hamlet became a miraculous success, Shakespeare had written another play, another tragedy. They stood at the back of the crowded audience, Aziraphale enjoying watching the play as Crowley gave his rather sarcastic commentary now and then. It was a quieter moment with the love interest talking with her maid about the main character (Aziraphale was having trouble remembering the character’s real names since Crowley kept calling them other things). At some point the ‘woman’ had lifted her arm to her maid and Aziraphale couldn’t help but sigh.

It was like no matter what play or art or music he experienced there was always a mention of those blasted words. Crowley noticed his obvious distaste for the scene and asked him about it. “Shakespeare’s number one fan sighing during one of his plays? Must be a bad one.” That didn’t seem to stimulate a response, so he was more straightforward. “Something wrong, angel? I thought you liked all that romantic soulmate stuff.” Aziraphale sighed again, shaking his head as he dipped his hand into his bag of dates he’d brought. “I do like it. I love when humans meet their soulmates. But it’s- It’s not-” He struggled to find the words to describe his feelings without giving the real reason away. He glanced at Crowley, seeing him waiting patiently for an answer. “I can’t explain it. I just don’t like the…” He didn’t finish, opting to stare at the date in his hand, nibbling it to keep his hands busy. It didn’t seem that he needed to finish as Crowley got the idea. He looked up at the stage where the love interest (Crowley hadn’t bothered to remember the character’s names) gave a heart-felt speech as she held her arm out lovingly. Then turned to Aziraphale who looked down at his bag as if it was the most fascinating thing, his eyes gazing at his arm every now only to snap back at the bag. “What’s wrong with them?” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley then smiled as he gestured to his bag. “Oh, nothing! Sweeter than I thought they’d be.” “You know what I mean, angel.” The smile was gone in an instant and he was back to his defensive self. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Why would there be a problem? No one else has a problem with them so why would I.” The angel stared at the stage, clearly not actually paying attention but clearly not going to look back. The demon realised the conversation was over for now, a touchy subject for his angel, but they had eternity to continue it.

Thankfully, Crowley never brought it up again. Or maybe it would have been better if he had. After the church incident, Aziraphale never talked about soulmates let alone the words. He hoped he wasn’t being obvious about it but Crowley never mentioned it.

Though they did have a small chat about the antichrist’s words, or at least who they thought was the antichrist. While Aziraphale found it sweet that even the antichrist had a soulmate, it had worried Crowley. Surely the antichrist wouldn’t have a soulmate, he was made to destroy everything which would include his soulmate. It was more sad than cute. Aziraphale eventually had to point out that it was probably just the basic human form to help him fit in and be unnoticeable. It was especially upsetting since he had such lovely words. “You’re more than them. I’m sorry I can’t prove it to you.” Why couldn’t his be like that? Even the antichrist got better words than him.

When the fuck up was revealed, Aziraphale had been tempted to tell Crowley about his words. He didn’t want to lose everything without at least telling him the truth. But it wasn’t to be. Everything kept getting in the way and when he finally got the courage to tell him, Crowley ended up being too busy. It was only after Armagedidn’t that they were able to sit down and talk about it all. Even then he couldn’t say anything because of the whole swapping-body-so-neither-of-us-die thing. They both promised not to look at each other’s words but Aziraphale still wasn’t able to talk about it. He only hoped the other angels didn’t say anything. Thank goodness he wasn’t there to see Gabriel’s reaction to it all.

Crowley-as-Aziraphale tried his best to hold his tongue against the archangels. Aziraphale wasn’t the type to talk back against his superiors or make any comments about them. He found it especially hard when he learned his angel wouldn’t even get a trial and they just started insulting him. He couldn’t stop the glare no matter how un-Aziraphale it was. Then they said how inevitable it was. How his betrayal was written on his arm. He stopped himself from looking at his arm since it would be unfair to Aziraphale. Instead, he gave a small smile. “I’m sorry none of you met your soulmate. But you have eternity with them I suppose.” He gave a sly sarcastic smile, scrunching up his nose a little. So what if it wasn’t like Aziraphale? It was worth it to see their stupid smiles be wiped from their faces. “Shut your stupid mouth and die already.”

Then it was quiet.

The two were happy. Everything went back to normal, almost. They spent more time together. No more running off because someone might be watching or they had jobs to do. Still, Aziraphale had one thing to do but with the threat of the world ending no longer over his shoulders he lost all confidence he had gathered. 

They were in Aziraphale ‘s backroom as usual. A bottle of wine on the coffee table between them and full glasses for each of them. Crowley who was lounging over one of couches had been ranting about something for almost an hour with no sign of stopping. Usually, the angel opposite him would be listening but he was lost in thought as he played with his sleeve. Slowly Crowley noticed he wasn’t paying attention and stopped talking to watch him. He watched his angel pick at the button on his sleeve. He stayed quiet as Aziraphale thought deeply on what to do. At some point, Aziraphale had realised Crowley had stopped talking. He looked up at the demon, he must have asked a question and was waiting for an answer.

“Sorry. I was- I was just thinking. What did you say?” He grabbed his glass and took a sip to stop himself from touching his sleeve. The demon’s eyes that were usually covered were staring right at his sleeve where his hand had been. “Why do you hate your words?” This catches Aziraphale off guard as he tried to form a sentence only for nonsense noises to come out instead. He seemed to be acting offended, but he didn’t deny Crowley’s guess for a long time. “I don’t hate my words. They’re just words. Can’t hate words.” He thought he’d found a loophole and tried to divert the conversation but Crowley refused to let him. “Why do you hate your soulmate then?” “I don’t hate-” Aziraphale is quick to stop himself from saying you. “I can’t hate my soulmate. The whole point is that I fall in love with them. It’s impossible.” Crowley sat up, giving his angel a pointed look, one that clearly said they both knew that was wrong. He took a deep breath and sighed, placing his wine on the coffee table. He didn’t look up as he spoke, afraid of the look he might see if he does. “Angel… Can I see your words?” Aziraphale snapped his arm to his chest, holding it closely as if he was afraid the demon would grab it though he knew that would never happen. 

They stayed silent for a few minutes; Crowley patiently waiting for his angel to decide. To kick him out. To yell at him for asking such a thing. Okay maybe he was over exaggerating. After what felt like eternity, Aziraphale slowly moved his arm down and held it out to Crowley. The demon looked up, eyes widening at the sight of his angel willingly letting him see his words. He glanced up at his face that was turned away, rethinking everything in his head but still choosing to trust him. He gently took hold of his wrist with a grip so tight his glass would have slipped through and shattered on the ground. His other hand slowly rolled up the sleeve, giving his angel plenty of time to think. Just as he was about to reveal the first word, he looked up at Aziraphale for final confirmation. “Please, get on with it before I change my mind.” In a second the sleeve was up to his elbow, revealing in untidy scribbled writing his words. 

“Little demonic miracle of my own.”

The grip tightened to the point where the glass would have slipped a little. They were quiet again. Aziraphale didn’t look back, not wanting to know the demon’s reaction. There was no one else it could be talking about and he doubted a demon could love him, no matter how much it hurt. Yet he could still feel the tracing of the words, the featherlight touch of his fingers carefully following each letter as delicately as he had been with Agnes Nutter’s book. 

“This was at the church. I saved you from those nazis with one of their own bombs.” It sounded like he was smiling, laughing almost. Aziraphale looked back at Crowley who was still staring at his words. He smiled a little at the demon’s carefree look, remembering good times they shared. “You saved my books as well. Almost destroyed them but you did save them.” The two chuckled at the memory. In hindsight, Aziraphale could see how bad those nazi spies were. He almost embarrassed for his past self.

The laughing slowly died out and they were left in silence again, Crowley now practically stroking his arm. His smile faded and he frowned. “Do you hate me?” Aziraphale rushed to place his glass down and took hold of his hand that was tracing his words. He looked him in the eyes, his sad cold eyes. “I meant what I said. I can’t hate you. I don’t hate you and it’s not just because we’re soulmates. I think I loved you before then, I just didn’t know or I didn’t want to know.” He paused to see if Crowley would react but he only got silence. “It’s just the other angels. They said it would mean I’d… And I wanted to prove to them so badly that I wouldn’t. I hated the words because I thought it would mean I was a demon as well. Not that that’s a bad thing I just didn’t want to- you know. But you being a demon isn’t a problem anymore. I don’t think it has been for a long time.” He seemed to keep going for a long time, his eyes blurring with tears he didn’t want to fall. 

The only thing that stopped him was the hand that had been holding his wrist coming up to cup his cheek. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to keep going but the demon’s thumb pressed to his lips to stop him. “Angel…” It was no louder than a whisper but it was more comforting than anything else in the world right now. “You don’t have to prove anything to me or them. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the only angel that deserves to be up there. You’re not perfect but I don’t want you to be. I don’t think we would have met if you were. And honestly, fuck Gabriel.” They laugh again, a slightly sadder tone than before. There was some kind of unspoken understanding building between them. It was going to take a lot for Aziraphale to forget it all and realise the words meant nothing as his standing as an angel but Crowley would be there the whole time to prove it.

Aziraphale took a deep breath, preparing himself for his next words. He couldn’t force Crowley to love him if he wasn’t capable. “I know this may be a surprise to you and I don’t expect you to love me back. But could we please not change? I don’t want to lose you over something so silly.” To his surprise, Crowley started laughing. A full joyous laugh. It wasn’t often Aziraphale heard him laugh like that and to be honest it was a little concerning right now. However, before he can start talking again, Crowley interrupted him. “Angel, you are wonderful but sometimes you are the dumbest most oblivious bastard I’ve ever met.” Aziraphale huffed and leaned back crossing his arms, a small pout on his lips. He watched as Crowley laughed at his own inside joke, unamused that it was at his expense. Eventually, Crowley calmed down with only a wide dopey grin as a sign of his obnoxious laughter. He chuckles at his angel’s pout and annoyance. “I already knew.”

This causes Aziraphale to jump and sit back up properly. His eyes wide and mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. A series of random noises escapes him. “What? When did I say- How long have you known?” He thought he’d been so careful but clearly he must have given it away at some point. He hoped it had only been recently, maybe the other angels had said something in heaven about it. Crowley watched amused as his angel tried to figure it all out. At some point he decided to throw him a bone and pulled the sleeve of his jacket up. 

It took Aziraphale a second to process as he stared at the words on Crowley’s arm. He seemed even more surprised but then tears began welling up again. He leaned forward and took his demon’s hands in his own. “You waited so long.” He tried to keep talking but he couldn’t seem to pick between bursting into tears of joy or laughing at his own stupidity. Crowley smiled with him and cupped his cheek again. “I would have waited an eternity watching the Sound of Music on repeat if it meant you’d love me back.” There in beautifully neat cursive writing were his words. Something that happened so long ago that almost every other angel and demon had forgotten about it. But not his demon.

“I gave it away.”


End file.
